


Worth Exploring

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer has a little talk with his little brother</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Exploring

Castiel leaves the motel room with no clear idea of where he's going, only knowing that he can't stay, can't continue to look on Dean Winchester's grim, set face without wanting to storm the very gates of Heaven itself, screaming his outrage and grief out to any who might be listening. He settles instead for finding the darkest, most disreputable bar around, where he takes a seat at the bar and hands the bartender one of the falsely obtained credit cards that Dean had insisted he carry on his travels. "Whiskey," he says, vaguely remembering the golden-brown liquid that Dean often drinks.  
  
A glass is set down in front of him and filled, and he curves his hand around its smooth surface, twisting it on the bar, staring down into the depths of it before he raises it to his lips. The liquid burns on the way down, an echo of fire and light, with a hint of smoke and earth behind it. He doesn't understand why Dean drinks it so often, but when his glass is finished and the bartender asks if he wants a refill, he nods. Maybe this isn't something he can understand with just one drink.  
  
He swirls the glass around, watching light reflect off its surface and play over the whiskey inside. It's not quite brown, not quite golden, but some odd color in between, almost like burnished red amber, really. Castiel wonders if it's possible to focus on the whiskey hard enough and long enough that he can forget what happened, forget the message Dean and Sam brought back from Heaven, forget everything except the bar and the drink in front of him. Yes, that's what he'd like to do - forget everything, from the coming apocalypse to his own slowly fading grace and everything in between.   
  
He doesn't look up when a figure slides onto the stool next to him. "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but from the looks of things, I'd say you're getting a pretty good start on your own." There's no mistaking the smooth amusement in his voice, even if it doesn't sound like it did the last time he heard it.  
  
"Go away." He takes a long drink from his glass, already so used to the taste that he doesn't grimace as the fiery liquid slid down his throat. "I know who you are, and there's nothing you have to say that I'm interested in hearing."  
  
"Not even if I know exactly how you're feeling right now?" Without meaning to, Castiel looks over at him. He's changed vessels, but there's no mistaking the tender beauty of his smile or the way the stars seem to swirl in his eyes. His grace still doesn't fully fit within him, dancing around the edges of his new body, little shimmers of not-quite-light that Castiel can see out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Just leave me alone," he grates, the words grating like sandpaper over his tongue. Knowing that Dean and Sam were in Heaven, feeling the echo of it in the air around them, had been painful but this... being so close to another angel, even if it is Lucifer, it's agonizing. He can feel his own grace pushing against his skin, aching to join with Lucifer's, needing the solace and intimacy that only another heavenly being can give.  
  
He tilts his head and regards Castiel with what almost appears to be sympathy. "Little brother," he sighs. "I'm sorry it had to happen this way, believe me."  
  
Castiel snorts. "I've been where you are, you know. Lost and alone, crying out for a Father that won't answer, cut off from my home and my brothers because I thought for myself instead of just blindly following orders that didn't make sense."  
  
Despite himself, he realizes that he's actually listening, and he wonders if Lucifer's first years away from Heaven were as confusing as his own are turning out to be. Questions are starting to form, thoughts that he'd never even entertained before, dangerous whispers deep in his soul that he dare not let take shape. "I'm not you," he states, taking a shaky breath.  
  
"Of course you're not. It wouldn't be nearly as interesting as you are." Lucifer waits until the bartender has refilled both their glasses before he takes a sip and turns fully towards him. "Like I said before, you're a peculiar creature. One worth exploring, I think."  
  
Castiel frowns and starts to ask what he means by that, but he's cut off by Lucifer's mouth as he leans forward and kisses him, soft and slow at first, then deeper when he doesn't protest or pull away.   
  
His first kiss isn't supposed to be like this. It isn't supposed to be in a seedy bar, surrounded by unwashed humans he doesn't know. It's supposed to be after a hunt, riding the wave of endorphins after they've faced danger, or outside on a quiet night at Bobby Singer's, or late at night in one of the many motel rooms they all share, or leaning up against the Impala in the early hours of the morning. It's supposed to be Dean who lays a hand on his cheek, Dean who leans in and brushes his lips over Castiel's, teasing and encouraging him until he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, Dean who groans softly and uses the sleek heat of his tongue to caress him, making his body harden with a need for more. He's supposed to see warm green eyes when he looks dazedly up afterward, not laughing brown ones, and there's supposed to be a smart remark waiting for him instead of a tender smile.   
  
No, this isn't how it's supposed to go at all, but when Lucifer strokes a thumb over his bottom lip and murmurs, "Definitely worth exploring," Castiel decides that maybe there's something to be said for surprises, after all.  
  
He stares down at the hand Lucifer places on his chest for a long time, at the trim, well-kept nails and long, slender fingers that look nothing like Dean Winchester's, and he knows what Lucifer is about to ask him. He doesn't know if he'll say yes, but he knows that there's a part of him that wants to, and it's growing with every passing second.  
  
But once again, Lucifer manages to surprise him, because he asks, "Will you go to bed with me?" Castiel stares up at him, too shocked to find words to answer, especially when he offers him a disarming smile and adds, "Please say yes."  
  
He'd been prepared to listen to a sales pitch, ready to turn down whatever temptation might be offered should he fall and join Lucifer's ranks, but... sex? It's such a human request that he doesn't know exactly what to say to it. "I - what?"  
  
Lucifer smiles and bends to nip his ear, then whispers, "I want you, little brother. I want to strip you down and wrap my hand around your cock, kiss your entire body and make you beg for more, then lay your out and fuck you until you see stars. I want to be hilt deep inside you when you come screaming my name, and I want to do it over and over again."  
  
"You mean... you don't want me to join you?"  
  
His laughter feels like silk rubbing along his skin. "Oh, I want that, too. But let's start with the sex and go from there, shall we?"  
  
Castiel thinks about motel rooms and back seats and shower stalls, about crooked smiles and hard hands and rough voices and brotherly bickering. He thinks about angels walking the earth for the first time in thousands of years, about ancient prophecies and broken seals, forgotten brothers locked away for transgressions against absent fathers who turn away from their children in times of need, and he realizes that, for tonight at least, he can stop thinking about anything at all. Picking up his glass, he drains the last of whiskey, sets it down, and looks up at Lucifer. "Yes," he tells him.


End file.
